The Ten Qualities of a Good Relationship
by 1-800-SHDWRLM
Summary: Sherlock and John certainly do possess all of them. Johnlock, rated for sexual themes. Hey, tell me if you want me to expand on any of the ten in a review. I'll see what I can do.


**I saw a list on Tumblr of the ten qualities to look for in a good relationship and I couldn't resist. Also I made Sherlock kinda affectionate. I hope you don't mind.**

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**# 10: Empathy**

"We need milk," Sherlock offered from his spot on the couch, lying back and staring at the ceiling.

John closed the door behind himself, dropping his Tesco bags on the kitchen table on his way in. "I'm not going back out, Sherlock. I bought two cartons this time. One is for me, one is for you."

Sherlock watched him go. He blinked, then placed his folded hands under his chin and continued to stare at the ceiling. He heard rather than saw John come back into the room after putting everything up, and turned to watch him again as soon as he sat in his favourite chair and opened his newspaper.

"John." The newspaper lowered a fraction. "You don't appreciate having all the milk gone right after you've bought it, because you take your tea only with milk, and you drink a lot of tea when you think I'm being annoying, and you think I'm always annoying."

John smiled gently at him. "Not always."

"I'll try not to use _all _of it," Sherlock said petulantly, as if it pained him to make the effort, but his face was hopeful. He was waiting for John's approval.

Deep blue eyes flickered to his, then back to the newspaper. "Good."

* * *

**# 9: Acceptance**

Sherlock was never one to be self-conscious or easily wounded by words, but today was different. He'd been in front of the press again after a case (his least favorite place to be) and catcalls of "freak" and "mutant" from the crowd really put him off. John had been there to hold his elbow, grounding him, until Lestrade waved off the rest of the questions and they could leave.

As soon as they walked into 221B, Sherlock slipped his coat and scarf off onto the floor and threw himself into John's armchair. That was cue for John to take his hands, pull him up, sit down, and allow Sherlock to sit in his lap.

They were silent for a while; both were still a bit high on the thrill of a case solved, and John was too tired to begin a conversation.

"Am I really a freak?"

John froze, and Sherlock froze in turn. "In bed, yes," he murmured into Sherlock's dark mass of hair.

The detective chuckled. "You know what I mean."

John's arms tightened around him and he hummed in thought. "I know you're not a freak. You're incredibly intelligent, and a fast thinker, and observant-"

"In ways others aren't, I know," Sherlock said. He wasn't being immodest, he was merely being truthful. "I've wished myself different every second of every day." John pressed a kiss to his temple, so he sighed and went on. "Do you wish I was different?"

"Sherlock, for all your moods and abrasiveness and severed heads in the refrigerator, I wouldn't change anything about you. You're perfect."

Sherlock blinked up at him. "No one is perfect, John," he said, his voice low.

"You're perfect to me."

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**# 8: Chemistry**

When John awoke that Sunday morning, Sherlock's lips were pressed to the back of his neck and his hand was smoothing down John's pajama-clad thigh. "Love?" he slurred, blinking his eyes open, and laid a hand on top of Sherlock's.

"Yes?" Sherlock all but purred in reply. His mouth kissed from John's neck to his shoulder, and rested on his scar.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it feel like?"

John's shoulder twinged-it must have been raining outside-and Sherlock immediately moved, pulling John onto his back and leaning over him. "Well... It feels like you're trying to get a leg over."

"I _am _getting a leg over," Sherlock countered, pressing sweet kisses to John's collar bone. "And you're not stopping me."

The doctor smiled sleepily at him, shaking his head a bit. "Why would I? How could I get a catch like you?"

"You're becoming sentimental in your state of half-consciousness, John. You know perfectly well how attractive you are."

John's smile got a little wider, but he didn't protest; his eyes closed in contentment at Sherlock's renewed kisses and touches, until, some hours later, either of them was bothered to get out of bed.

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**# 7: Steadfastness**

_Angelo's. 7:30. SH_

John stared at his phone a bit, and then put it back in his pocket, waiting for his next patient. It was only four o'clock, meaning he had an hour left in the surgery before he could even think about going home and getting dinner (apparently with Sherlock), but the man was never notorious for missing a date.

_Cinema? SH_

Now John was a bit confused.

_We never go to the cinema._

_My treat. SH_

Thinking for a while through the appointment of his next few patients, John picked up his phone again a bit after five.

_Sure._

At seven twenty nine, John was clean and dressed a bit more casually, sitting at their usual table, his hands folded and the candle on the table already lit.

At seven thirty sharp, Sherlock sat next to him and smiled. "I was thinking we could see a comedy," he said softly.

John couldn't control his grin.

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**# 6: Goals**

"Do you like working at the surgery?" Sherlock asked abruptly, gently squeezing John's knee while still looking out the window of the cab.

"I like it enough," John replied. "What brought that on?"

Sherlock paused, opened his mouth, closed it again, and then said, "Molly told me there was an opening recently at Bart's. I knew you wouldn't want me to accept a job for you without asking..." He suddenly looked uncomfortable. "I know how much you love being a doctor, and a surgeon, and I thought, the clinic can't have that many actual cases." He stopped short, removing his hand from John's leg.

"Sherlock." John shifted closer to him, took his hand, and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for being concerned. I think I will go to Bart's... Mike and I were planning to catch up later this week. I should ask him."

Piercing blue-green eyes gazed over at him, then slid back to the window. "Yeah." If anything, Sherlock looked embarrassed for John to know he cared.

"I'm not," John replied to the unspoken feeling. "I'm flattered, love."

Sherlock nodded absently, but his grip on John's hand tightened, and the corner of his mouth turned up slightly. "I'm rubbing off on you, aren't I? Deducing my state of mind now?"

"Of course. Where would a doctor be without his caring demeanor?"

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**# 5: Generosity**

John understood Sherlock more than the detective thought. When they were on a case, Sherlock wouldn't sleep, wouldn't eat, would barely talk, and John fell to the wayside. The record was three kisses in three days from him, and none of them were on the mouth.

So after a case, Sherlock was almost over-affectionate. He never let John go for more than a second, and those seconds were used for the toilet and getting the takeaway from the front door. They had _a lot _of sex-sometimes making John's psychosomatic limp flare up again, he wasn't as young as he used to be-and there was _a lot _of post-coital cuddling.

Even if Sherlock wasn't always a generous lover, he certainly did try.

Sherlock felt the same way about John.

Unlike most other people, John knew when Sherlock needed an ear or a mouth. He helped him on cases, with actual clues, and not mindless, inane chatter like Anderson and Donovan supplied, and his blog was not only accurate, but also adorable.

When Sherlock didn't feel like being around him, John was able to entertain himself. He accepted affection while on case, but never initiated, giving Sherlock ample room to decide when he could afford to think about him. He also accepted affection after case, when Sherlock practically pined for him.

He bottomed, he topped, without a complaint (quite the opposite). He didn't feel like their relationship was a masculinity contest like Sherlock's other partners, and was willing to admit what position he wanted without embarrassment or a feeling of obligation.

Both of them were lovingly generous in different ways, but it was definitely an equal give and take.

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**# 4: Priorities**

"That... was... amazing..." John panted, his hands on his knees as he leaned over and tried to catch his breath. Sherlock was doing the same, his foot on the chest of their knocked-out murderer, and grinning like a maniac.

"Yes... it was..." Sherlock replied gleefully.

Lestrade and his group of squad cars were not far behind them. "Sherlock!" he called. "I need you two in for questioning!"

"Tomorrow!" both Sherlock and John replied, then looked over at each other.

John's lips twitched up into a smile. "Shower first, some Chinese, then bed?"

Sherlock grabbed him by the collar and pulled him forward into a kiss. "Absolutely," he whispered against John's lips.

* * *

**# 3: Trust**

Sherlock and John locked eyes, coming to a decision. Sherlock raised the gun with his unshaking hand and pressed the muzzle to John's temple. "Come any closer and I'll kill him," he murmured, turning to face their attacker.

The man paused, then took a step back. "You're crazy," he shot back, his entire body trembling. Sherlock's pale eyes flickered over him, and he smiled, but didn't lower the gun.

"Please," John whispered, closing his eyes tightly, but he wasn't shaking. He put his life in Sherlock's hands and trusted him entirely with it.

"You're not the killer, are you? Why would you tamper with all the evidence to make it point to you, then?" Sherlock thought aloud, his free hand, hidden by John's body, coming to rest at the small of John's back in a reassuring gesture. "The murderer has to have some sort of close relationship to you; you're wearing a similar sweater as one of the suspects when he was taken in, but it's obvious _he _didn't have any part in the purchase; your mother, then, and to get one to each of you, it had to be your elder brother; the victim was a police officer, who caught him on his third strike; you're taking the blame to keep him out of jail."

Sherlock smirked, cocking his gun. "You're unfailingly loyal. You're also not acclimatized to violence, judging by the frankly astounding level of vibration of your person. I really do hate familial obligation."

The man shook his head quickly, throwing his gun to the wall and running the opposite direction. Two squad cars pulled up just in time to block him.

John breathed a satisfied sigh, and Sherlock lowered the gun. "Thank you," the detective murmured, "for going along with this." He wiped the spot that he'd pressed the gun against John's temple with his sleeve, and then kissed it.

"Of course, Sherlock. It was for the case." John adjusted his jacked and stepped forward, his hands adorably balled up at his sides.

"Still, John. You didn't have to."

John turned to him, smiled warmly, and chuckled, "Vatican cameos."

**# 2: Communication**

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"Love?" John asked, shedding his jacket and hanging it up. "You home?"

"Case," Sherlock called back from in his bedroom, and John nodded to himself, going into the kitchen to make tea. He would have turned on the telly for background noise, but Sherlock would be distracted, and he wouldn't do that on purpose.

He carried a cup of tea up to Sherlock's bedroom door, leaving the cup and two biscuits in a saucer on the floor, and went up to his bedroom, quietly closing the door.

Twenty minutes later, Sherlock came up, a smile on his face, smelling of warm tea and chocolate biscuits, and sat down next to John, staring at him over the top of his book.

John glanced up at him and smiled back. "You're done."

"I am."

Sherlock shifted close and stayed there. "But you're not in the mood yet."

Sherlock's smile shifted into a smirk. "No."

"Want me to read to you?"

"Where's War and Peace?"

John reached over to his bedside table, drew Sherlock against his side, and kissed his curls. "Ready?" Sherlock nodded against his chest.

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# 1: **Commitment**

John held Sherlock's hand over the kitchen table, his other hand holding a mug of coffee. Sherlock was looking through his blog, abusing people through the comments. "I love you," John said suddenly. "Forever."

Sherlock's free hand stopped moving and he locked eyes with John. "I love you too, John. More than forever." He frowned a bit. "Teenaged sentimentality, that was, but it stands."

He stroked the back of John's hand with his thumb at the doctor's bright laugh.

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**Please review o3o**


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